Time and Tide Aren't the Only Stain Removers
by TheYmp
Summary: Jo's just biding her time. Gen / Angst. It's Supernatural; you know the drill. Written for the SPNspiration 'April Fool's Fanwork Challenge 2015' on LiveJournal.


**Disclaimer: I don't own _Supernatural_ or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

 ** _Jo's just biding her time._** **Gen / Angst. It's Supernatural; you know the drill.**

 **Written for the SPNspiration 'April Fool's Fanwork Challenge 2015' on LiveJournal.** **SnickFic's prompt was "Jo Harvelle(/Castiel if you want) - rust and clean linens"**

~#~

 **Time and Tide Aren't the Only Stain Removers**

 _Some days_ , Jo thought, _it feels like I've been working at this crappy motel forever_. Still, it was a good way of getting intel on the events in the area while maintaining a low profile. No one ever paid much mind to the room maid, so if it sometimes seemed like she was invisible, in all honesty that pretty much suited her. The work was hard and low paid, but it was a source of income and, more importantly, gave her something to do until the next hunt.

At the moment she was just trying to keep out of trouble while waiting for her mom to meet up. They'd arranged to get together, well, if she was truthful, it was more about agreeing to her mom's demand-anything for a quiet life-that regular checking-in was a long standing condition on Jo being 'allowed' to hunt.

 _Even so_ , Jo wondered, _how has my life come to this? Me being here and staring stupidly at a stack of fresh towels?_

She frowned as the light revealed they were maybe not quite as clean as she'd imagined. _Perhaps if I fold them right, no one will notice_ , she thought, failing to completely flick the dirt off. She made a mental note to get someone to look at the pipework that ran at the back of the laundry closet, it was obviously rusty and the last thing she needed was to have a whole cupboardful of perfectly good linens ruined. _Heaven knows they took enough time to launder and press, and the other help does seem mighty short on the ground these days._

There was no point dawdling, so she got down to the task in hand. As ever, the work was mindless but tiring and she was almost on automatic as she went through the motions of cleaning, vacuuming, and making beds.

So when a young woman laid a hand on her shoulder it almost scared the life out of her. Jo was just absurdly proud that she didn't shriek out loud.

"Call this room clean? The bathroom's filthy!" the woman complained.

Jo backed off slightly from the woman's fury. She didn't recognize the guest, so presumably she was new.

Dutifully, she turned her attention in the direction of the woman's accusingly pointing finger only to discover, to her chagrin, that the bathroom _was_ filthy; the tub and surrounding area were stained and speckled with rust. She had been sure it had been fine earlier. She'd been in such a dream recently, she grimaced as she put her hand in the brackish water to pull out the plug.

She watched as the water drained away taking most of the rust with it. Turning the faucet, she directed the spray from the showerhead over the sides of the bath until the water ran clear.

 _This place is a dump,_ she thought, thinking back to the towels. _Story of my life, everything falling apart around me._

She shook her head to clear it, she'd not been raised to be a quitter, her mom had taught her better. _Harvelles get stuff done_. She focused on putting the room to rights and the woman, seeming mollified, went on her away without another word.

"You're _welcome_ ," Jo muttered angrily under her breath as she let herself out of the room, only to narrowly avoid a near-collision with a fast-moving passerby.

"Watch where you're going, Mike," she growled at one of the motel's long staying guests and coincidentally a familiar face from the Roadhouse days. Jo wasn't keen on him, he'd always been a little bit quirky even back then, but in recent times it had only got worse.

"Hi, Jo. How's your mom?"

Jo sighed; he always greeted her with a baffled confusion as if it was the first time they'd seen each other in months. It was just stupid fate to bring her to this place in the middle of nowhere and of all the people she should have to meet it was so typical it'd be someone creepy like Mike. She did have a vague recollection of him being a little less peculiar in the past, but with their skittish, paranoid ways, all hunters were a bit odd. Sam and Dean might deny it, but they were no exception either. The thought of the brothers tugged at her, she hadn't exactly left in the best of circumstances. She hoped they could forgive her...

Mike coughed to re-capture her attention.

"Yeah, she's good," Jo replied absently.

"Not still hanging out with those damn Winchesters, I hope," he said darkly, his mouth twisting in displeasure.

Normally, Jo liked to think that she could let what she considered 'dumb ass' comments go, but today had been unsettling and she was spoiling for a fight. "I don't know why you've got a stick up your ass about the Winchesters; they've done _real_ good," she declared.

Mike snorted, and Jo wondered if he knew the back story between her father and John Winchester.

"I heard the devil himself's after them."

Jo rolled her eyes. _Damn hunters and their tales, and then they have the gall to say that women gossip_.

Mike didn't seem convinced, instead, if anything, he appeared enraged. "Those damn boys caused all of this; they're gonna be the end of us all. You mark my words!"

Jo's hunter instincts kicked in, making her adopt a lose-limbed stance in preparation for attack. But Mike seemed to have got past his rant and scuttled off while rubbing at his side and the site of the old hunting injury that had forced his early retirement.

Jo sighed in relief. _Although..._

She'd never admit it, but she missed her mom. She'd even consider working a case with Rufus again. It's just that it was _so_ boring here, she'd be up for even a simple hunt...

"I've got a hunt for you." The low gravel-like voice came as a cold shock, crashing across her awareness like storm-whipped waves.

"Castiel," she spoke, once her heart was under control again. She couldn't resist taking a quick peek past him into the car lot. She sighed her disappointment at her failure to see the familiar, black shine of the Impala. "So, flying solo?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "In a manner of speaking. I'm taking care of something myself, but I appear to have run into... difficulties." He trailed off and lifted his hands away from his body in an awkward gesture.

Jo's glare softened. "You want to prove you can do it yourself, don't you," she accused. She smiled to herself as she recognized the source of the hunger in his look. Castiel's expression gave way to an almost furtive glance and this time she allowed herself to laugh out loud, "Oh boy, well I sure know that feeling!" At his torn expression, she paused her laughter. "So, what've we got?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"A spirit," Castiel answered reluctantly, "a woman. She's confused-and seems to confuse the minds of those around her-but she's strong and seems to be very focused on remaining."

"And, don't tell me; she was cremated," said Jo, thinking that someone of Castiel's power would think nothing of a straightforward salt and burn, but that he'd struggle to understand the human element.

After a moment, Castiel nodded with a pained expression, and Jo's initial triumph gave way to sympathy. _Everyone has to start somewhere_ , she supposed.

"Wait, the woman in the bathroom," groaned Jo, mentally kicking herself. She explained the odd scenario that had occurred earlier. "I even thought at the time that it seemed a bit dream-like. Oh man, I'm such a noob." She supposed it was some kind of karmic payback for what she'd thought about Castiel's hunting abilities.

Castiel reach out in an abortive attempt to clasp her hands. "Are you sure that was rust that you saw?" he asked, gently.

"Of course it was," Jo said automatically, even while realizing that she was lying, if not to Castiel then at least to herself.

She stopped and looked down at the rust on the towels she was holding, finally seeing it for the blood that it had always been.

"I was here on a hunt, it was just a week or so _before_..." she said slowly. "Got myself a nasty cut from a chupacabra, nothing too bad-not like the first poor fool hunter who stumbled on it-but it bled like a mother..." She paused again, this time looking up at Castiel, eyes widening as she _realized_. "I guess they're _really_ not as clean as I thought," she couldn't help but add with a smirk. _Dean would be so proud of me._

At that thought, she stared at Castiel in horrified silence as it all came flooding back. She moaned as she remembered the entirety of what came _after_.

"I couldn't hold on. They needed me, they were all relying on me, and I couldn't do it," she sobbed, remembering her last moments of drifting away, wrapped in her mother's arms. It was ironic how she'd been bleeding out on the cold floor of a hardware store and yet she'd never felt so warm and loved. "They needed me to do _one_ thing, just hold on until the hellhounds came, and I couldn't even do that."

"It's okay, now," soothed Castiel. "You did well, they got away. You don't have to hold on any longer."

"That's why I'm still waiting here, isn't it?" she demanded, gesturing at the blood-soaked linen.

Castiel nodded and Jo could see that he was waiting to assess her reaction. Lifting her chin, she piled the towels in the room's fireplace. "Let's do this the Harvelle way," she declared, lighting a whole strip of matches and letting them set the material alight. She watched mesmerized as the linen seemed to explode into flame.

"I'm coming, Momma," she whispered.

"Jo," called out Castiel, at a sudden thought, "tell Dean that I..."

Disappointed, Castiel turned away from the scene of the figure that had already evaporated like morning's first mist.

He still had the spirits of the hunter and the suicide in room 237 to lay to rest.

(;,;)


End file.
